


Ghosts and Demons and other things

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-Hanna and the Ghost. -Veser meets his mother. -Cas and Fin vs. Abner. -Possessed Lamont. -{...} and the Angel. -How Hanna got his scars. -Six short drabbles based on prompts by hinabn-aus-and-prompts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts and Demons and other things

**Author's Note:**

> Just crossposting these from Tumblr because I finally remembered them.

1\. "Of course," Hanna mumbled under his breath, side-eyeing the luminous spirit. Of course there'd be a power-outage when he was stuck in an elevator with a ghost. As much as he told Worth to stop worrying, it was true, he was, well, weak to the ghost type. This one seemed nice enough, sort of just minding its own business, but it was still a ghost, like tigers were still tigers even if they were well-behaved. Izanagi, luckily, was quite intuitive when it came to protecting Hanna, and placed himself between the two. 

"Sorry," the ghost said quietly, noticing Hanna's discomfort. It huddled in the far corner, casting its glow upon the small room. 

"Nah, it's not your fault," Hanna said. "It's just, y'know, allergies. I hope the power comes back on soon." 

The ghost twiddled its finger-like appendages. “Yes, I'm sure it will.” 

They waited there for some time, Hanna chatting idly with his zombie companion while the ghost kept mostly to itself, before the spirit finally spoke up. “You know, I've got a meeting I really have to get to. I'd better go check on the power situation myself.” And then it phased right through the door, leaving Hanna and Galahad slightly stunned. A few minutes later, the power flickered back on, and the elevator began its descent once more. 

When the ghost phased back into the lift as it was settling down at its chosen floor, Hanna raised an eyebrow at it. “Y'know, come to think of it, why didn't you just leave when we first broke down?” 

“Oh, my briefcase,” it said, floating over to the corner it had been occupying and picking up the rectangular leather case. “I'm sure you two are nice enough, but you really can't be too careful with your belongings these day, especially around corporeals. You understand.” Then it nodded a goodbye to Hanna and his friend, pushed the door-open button with the edge of its briefcase, and floated on to its meeting. 

xXxXx

2\. It had been a miserable day, and he wasn't prepared to deal with his mother when he came back to the house he'd reclaimed as his own, but there she was, sitting on the couch, waiting, looking as patient as ever. She had a bundle in her lap that Veser recognized almost immediately, despite never having seen it before. 

“I thought you were dead,” he said, not tearing up as one might in a movie, simply stating a fact. 

“You should know I'm more resilient than that,” his mother replied. 

Veser moved from the foyer into the living room, dropping his backpack carelessly where his mother had once requested everybody leave their shoes. Light mud tracks followed him as he approached his guest. “What are you doing here?” 

“Isn't it obvious, son?” she asked, tilting her head but leaving her expression as blank as it ever had been when she wasn't putting on a show. “I want you to come with me.” 

“Hell no. Why would you want that?” 

“Because you're part of the clan. You belong to me.” She gave him a hard look, as if daring him to challenge her. 

“Why should your clan matter to me?” Veser asked, scowling. “I don't belong to anybody.” 

Mrs. Hatch (if she could still be called that) visibly switched modes. “Veser, I love you,” she said, her eyes softening and her mouth curling up into a sympathetic smile. 

That tactic worked wonders on most men, Veser knew from years of experience, watching his mother get what she wanted and avoid unpleasant situations, but it wouldn't work on him. Was it because he was part selkie? Or perhaps because he was her son, and he knew better than anyone that she wasn't capable of love, wondered if he was capable of love himself. 

Veser shook his head. “Don't even bother. Just go. Just leave me alone.” He didn't even wait to see if she did as he asked or decided to stay for whatever reason. He just wanted to go to bed so he could wake up tomorrow and maybe have the energy to pretend his life wasn't fucked up. 

xXxXx

3\. “Finas, keep your eyes peeled!” 

“I'm watching,” Finas replied, at a volume a good few decibels lower than Casimiro. 

Casimiro wasn't having his partner's calmness, assuming (perhaps rightly) that it meant he was less concerned. “Fin, we're gonna get our asses handed to us if you underestimate this guy! We could die! Do you get that, Finas?” 

Finas rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Casimiro. It's just one man.” 

“Abner is not 'just one man'!” Cas growled. “He is the world champion!” 

“And we're the runners up,” Finas replied, sighing into his microphone as Cas continued his paranoid grumbling. “Stop freaking out. There are two of us and only one of him. If you cover the spawn point and I-- oh, crap. He sniped me.” 

“I fucking told you, Finas! Jesus, it's like you've never played a video game before! You're lucky I-- fuck, he got a headshot in on me! Where is this guy even coming from?! He must be cheating! Nobody could possibly be that good! I swear I” 

Finas pulled off his headset and dropped it on the desk, smirking to himself as his best friend spouted profanities through the tiny speakers. Within another few minutes they lost the match, and Casimiro called him up to complain about it for a good hour and a half. He verbally fantasized about tracking down that Abner and beating him up, and generally wouldn't shut up until Finas invited him out for dinner the next night because if there was one way to placate Cas, it was the offer of free food, and if there was one person who knew how to placate Cas, it was Finas. 

“Fine,” Casimiro said with just a bit of a residual whine. “Let's do Outback. They're having a steak special. We can discuss our game-plan for the next tournament over a Bloomin' Onion.” 

In all honesty, Finas didn't really care about the tournament, but he'd have probably gone to a My Little Pony convention if that was what Cas wanted. He knocked on wood as he bid his friend goodnight. 

xXxXx

4\. Lamont sighed. 23 years, he could barely believe it. 23 years, and dammit, he was getting exhausted. He thought back to before he'd taken on this job and knew that then-him would be laughing his ass off at now-him. Still, nobody could say he wasn't dedicated. He glanced furtively to his side, where Luce Worth was lounging at his desk, precariously balanced on the back legs of a chair that was possibly even older than he was. Old scars and fresh bandages littered his arms, and a cigarette was hanging idly from his lips, periodically dropping ashes on him. This man clearly had very little regard for his own life, and that was just what you could glean from looking at him as a stranger. Lamont had been his best friend for, well, 23 years, so he knew better than anyone just how little self-preservation Worth possessed. (He wasn't as bad as Hanna, but that was a different matter, since the kid was too dead to bother trying to kill anyway.) 

He thought back to their teenage years, and all the stupid shit they'd managed to get into. One would have thought (if they knew the details of the situation) that Lamont would have been the one to drag them into the worst of the danger, but to his surprise, most of it was Worth's fault. At first Lamont had thought the assignment was going to be a piece of cake, until after they'd narrowly avoided death more times than should statistically be possible for a mortal. He, of course, was in no danger of expiring, but Worth should have died several times over, so he started wondering if maybe he had angelic protection or something. Angels were a bit of a pain in the ass to detect sometimes, but after a fair amount of trial-and-error and investigation, he eventually ruled out heavenly bias. 

No, as it turned out, Worth was just basically impossible to kill. He wasn't even a supernatural or anything; he was as human as it got, he just took his mortal tenacity and cranked it up to 11. The man was a born survivor. 

And, to be honest, Lamont admired him for it. Hard not to, after 23 years of failing to indirectly get someone killed. 

He looked at Worth again, and laughed quietly to himself. The man had fallen asleep, legs still kicked up on the desk, and the cigarette had fallen into his lap. As Lamont watched, Worth's chair slowly tipped backwards, but the heel of one of his big feet caught the edge of the desk and stopped him from falling flat on his back, rather skidding the chair forward until he'd become perpendicular with the floor so gently he didn't even wake up. Somehow, his head ended up on the dirty floor just an inch from the jagged edges of a broken bottle Lamont had casually left sitting around earlier. He really had the devil's own luck, the bastard. 

A smirk on his face, Lamont shrugged and went back to his book. Maybe it was time to give up and admit he couldn't finish the job. Then again, maybe he'd just hang around a little while longer. Worth had to die eventually. If worst came to worst, he could just take credit for his natural death of old age. Technically speaking, not letting the man get turned into a vampire or something was being responsible for his death. Maybe not the most impressive way to complete a job but, honestly, Satan could come up and kill the man himself if it was that big a deal. 

xXxXx

5\. There had been no question in his mind. Hanna was in danger, of course he was going to leap in front and take the blow. There was no maybe about it. 

It happened fast. First there'd been what seemed to him a slow-motion blast from the staff of an incensed wizard, aiming at his very dear partner, and in no time here he was, wherever here was. It was ...very white. 

“Ah, welcome, my friend.” 

The zombie turned around and found a plain but pretty woman in a-- actually, no, that was an angel. 

“Is this Heaven?” the zombie asked. 

“No, not quite,” she replied. “Sort of what they call “Limbo”. Although, according to my paperwork here, you're being given a second chance. Sacrificing oneself for a friend is very noble. I can tell you're a good man.” 

“Thanks.” 

The angel shuffled her papers around a bit before tucking them into a pouch in her robes. “Let me restore you from the damage you received,” she said. Then she raised her hands and a glow began to emanate from the zombie. When he looked down at himself, he found that his body was no longer the moldy greenish color he knew so well, but rather a pale living-human sort of tone. To his mild surprise, he felt the faint rhythm of a heartbeat and pulse, and then also-- 

“...I remember.”

“What's that?” the angel asked. 

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten! Even if he'd been dead, how, how, how? Yes, he'd said “'til death do us part”, but he thought they'd end up together even in death. For a moment, he was overwhelmed, tears welling up in his eyes (after so long) over how much he now remembered that he loved her, and how much he missed her, and how sorry he was that it had ended up this way. The angel stood there and tilted her head at him. 

“Sir, are you alright?” 

“I'm fine,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, although his expression was still distant. He was thinking about her. He thought he would never stop thinking about her, now that he'd remembered. 

“You said something about... remembering?” 

He cleared his throat. “My wife. I can't believe I forgot her. How could I forget my beautiful darling Hannah?” 

The gears seemed to be grinding in the angel's head, until a proverbial lightbulb lit above her. “Oh, oh oh oh, oh no. Ahh, I messed up!” She pulled her paperwork back out and rifled through it. “Ahh, crap! I went too far!” 

The un-zombie brought his focus back to the present and looked up at the angel curiously, but was a little too lost in his memories still to ask. 

“I...'m sorry,” she said, cringing. “I was supposed to put you back to how you were right before you saved that man's life. Uh, so, um--” She raised her hands at him and waved them a little more frantically than one might expect of a creature that is supposed to embody gentleness. “—Let's just forget that happened, okay?” 

“Forget what?” the zombie asked, blinking his dead eyes heavily. He felt suddenly very heavy in his head and his veins.

“Nothing, nothing,” the angel said. “Well, let's get you back. I'm sure that man is quite worried over you.” 

The zombie nodded, happy to get back to Hanna as soon as possible. He was his precious partner, after all, and he wanted to continue protecting him. 

xXxXx

6\. It had been a pretty crappy night, what with the getting the shit beat out of him by a ghost, and the Galahad getting possessed, and the grouchy vampires, and Hanna was really liking the idea of going straight to bed when they got home, but it simply wasn't to be. 

Well, no, he did get to go to bed, but as soon as he lay down, his loyal friend Imhotep spoke up, with rather more conviction than he normally did. (Actually, he'd been fairly convictiony several times that night; Hanna thought he might be evolving.) 

“I think you should tell me about that wound on your chest,” he said, glowing orange eyes fixed on him from where he sat across the room. 

“Oh, that?” he said, not 'this' as would have been proper when referring to something so close to you that it is literally on your body. “That's just... y'know, something I got from a little scuffle I got into a couple years ago. No biggie.” 

“If it's not a big deal, why don't you tell me about it?” 

Hanna fully turned back over from where he'd been sprawled face-first on his mattress. “Uhh... Well it's, uh, kind of a weird story.” 

The zombie blinked very slowly. “I'd like to hear it,” he said. After all, weird stories didn't bother him. 

The redhead wiggled around a bit, rearranging his blankets and trying to get comfortable and giving himself a moment to think. “Alright,” Hanna said. “If you insist. But I don't think you're gonna believe me.” His partner said nothing, simply waiting for the explanation to begin. “Okay, so I was just lying in my bed one night, mostly asleep, and I started to have this weird dream, and there were these lights and I saw these tall white creatures and then I woke up on this cold metal table and--” 

Then the zombie did something he'd not yet done before; he interrupted him. “Are you saying you were abducted by aliens?” He raised an eyebrow so high it nearly mingled with his hairline. 

“Haha what? No! Nah, I think they were just trying to steal my organs. I think they must've knocked me out again after that, because I never saw anyone and I just woke back up in bed.” 

“And somehow you're okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm fine! The very picture of health.” He spread his arms to show how relatively intact he was, which was sort of a stupid gesture, given what they both knew about what lurked beneath his t-shirt. “But, y'know, I need my beauty sleep, so, g'night.” He turned back to his mattress and snuggled down into his sheets, burying his face in the pillow for a minute before peeking back out. “You know, I'm glad you're okay.” 

“You too,” the zombie replied, though he wished he could be more sure about that fact. 

xXxXx


End file.
